At the Ballet
by SmilesThroughFandoms
Summary: While attending the ballet, Michael, Zack, Sara, and Max ponder what will happen afterwards... (Anastasia AU. Also posted in Ao3 under the same name)


Michael could hardly believe it. Two weeks ago, he was sitting in an abandoned building, wearing rags, and trying to pry a coin he dropped from the jaws of a rat in the middle of St. Petersburg—or as it's now called, Leningrad. Now? He was wearing a silk dress the same color as the midnight sky with diamonds and sapphires that glimmered in the light when he moved. And a set of pearl earrings twinkle on each side of his head.

A Russian street-rat with a self-given name and no memories, now sitting in Paris wearing one of the most beautiful gowns he's ever seen while watching Swan Lake, of all things!

And yet, he couldn't stop shaking. His own nerves were getting the best of him. Not because of his bad luck—although that had brought down the massive red velvet curtain a minute before the show was supposed to start—no, it was because the Grand Duchess Sara Murphy sat across the ballet hall in the box seat of honor with Count Cavendish by her side. Count Cavendish occasionally glanced over to Michael and his companions over in their seats. At one point, he caught Dakota's eyes and the two men shared a secret smile.

Sabrina nudged him excitedly. Her own black and gold dress shimmering as she moved slightly. "Can you believe it?"

He shook his head. "No, not really." Behind him, a woman's pearl necklace snapped, and the jewels clattered to the floor, much to her surprise. The two siblings quickly and quietly helped the woman gather the jewels before the show started. Sabrina smiled, "Well believe it, brother." As the two handed the woman the pearls back, Sabrina sighed wistfully. "Just think, tonight is the night."

Michael nodded, although he still felt nervous. "The night we find our family…"

The orchestra began to play the overture and the lights dimmed, signaling a hush across the audience. Despite how he tried to get lost in the music of Tchaikovsky and the twirling dancers, Michael couldn't help but tremble with nerves.

It was everything he had ever hoped for. A home, love, and family; and suddenly it was sitting across a crowded theatre, clear as day. Yet, he felt like he was in some wonderful, horrible dream. Gazing at a hauntingly familiar face as he waited to be startled awake by the horrors of reality. He kept pinching himself, expecting to wake up in Russia again.

And yet, despite how nervous he was, Michael also felt optimistic. He had never been closer to the past he had forgotten or the answers to questions that plagued him every night. And with the answers of the past came opportunity for his future. And with Sabrina at his side, he knew he could accomplish anything.

Still, it didn't stop him from clasping tightly onto Zack's hand as the show continued.

Zack was already nervously sweating bullets in his seat, and the ballet had just started. He cast and envious glance at Dakota, who was sitting cool as a cucumber next to Melissa in his three-piece, suit with a sunset orange tie. Occasionally, Dakota would cast a lovesick glance towards Cavendish, reminding Zack of another reason to be nervous.

Michael. Or, as Zack should probably address him, Tsarevich Milo Murphy.

Zack loved him. In truth, he never stopped loving him. Not since that parade all those years ago… And yet, he knew he couldn't be with Michael/Milo. He and Sabrina/Melissa deserved to know who they were before everything bad happened, deserved to find their family, deserved to be _happy_. Zack knew he couldn't give that to Milo; he was a con man after all. Con man and Prince do not a fairy-tale ending make.

Still, when Zack felt Milo nervously tightening his grip, as if Zack was a lifeline for him; he felt needed. He felt loved. Zack squeezed Milo's hands and gave him a reassuring smile. "Everything will be ok. I'm right here." Milo smiled back and leaned into Zack, making his heart beat a mile a minute.

Then, returning his gaze back towards the ballet. Steeling his nerves for the heartbreak he would sooner or later endure.

Zack had come to earn the money and, while his mission at heart had changed, he was determined to see it through, if for no other reason than his beloved and his best friend's happiness.

Before the revolution had toppled the world she knew and loved so dearly, Sara had grown accustomed to certain things. Glittering jewels sewn into fabulous gowns, arithmetic lessons being interrupted by sudden swarms spectacled eider's, glorious banquets, and visits from dignitaries of the most powerful European countries, and the chandelier in the ballroom often crashing down to the floor whenever Sara and her younger brother and cousins would slide across the floors in their wool stockings.

But that bad luck like that always took place around her brother, father, and sometimes her cousin Nate (though he swore up and down the family curse didn't affect him). So Sara was more than a little surprised when the red velvet curtain had come crashing down (along with a few lights). The whole incident just screamed _Murphy_.

But Sara was the only Murphy there! And the curse only followed the men of her family.

The Grand Duchess shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts of her family, especially Milo and Melissa. Sara knew she was the one in her immediate family to survive the revolution—and all by happenstance. It killed her to admit it, but there was no one left from her immediate family. Just distant cousins whom were much older than her and the few outlying members of nobility that followed her out of Russia all those years ago, and they were so much younger than her…

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cavendish picking at an imaginary spot on his pea-green dress. She also saw her distant cousin and closet confidant throwing secretive, starry-eyed glances across the theatre. Out of curiosity, she followed his gaze to spot none other than the fake Count Vincent Dakota. She raised a brow. _Didn't mom and dad have him arrested after he was caught stealing from the place jewels?_ Then, Sara happened to glance at who was sitting with him and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

 _That boy with the brown hair that sticks up in the middle inexplicably? And that girl with the curly red hair? Could they be…?_ Wonderful, traitorous hope rose up quickly and before Sara could stop herself, she was leaning forward to try and get better look at the two children sitting across the theatre.

And then, her common sense returned, and a voice in her head told her to stop being so ridiculous. Reality sank back in and Sara slumped despondently into her seat, forcing her gaze to return to the ballet on stage.

 _They're gone, and they aren't coming back._ Sara thought, distractedly smoothing a wrinkle out of her sea green dress. _You've been through to many phonies, so much heartbreak. I have to stop believing that I'll ever find them again…_ With her gazed locked on the ballet, Sara steeled herself, refused to let herself believe or dream that her beloved little brother and her darling cousin were anything but dead and gone, just to protect what little she had of her shattering heart.

Still, she felt a little flicker of hope, even if she tried to ignore it.

Max peeked around the corner, his eyes scanning the darkened theatre to try and spot him. After a few minutes of squinting in the dark, the Bolshevik general could see Michael sitting in between the Street-Sweeper girl and that _damned con artist_. Max's eyes widened slightly upon seeing how pretty Michael looked in that blue dress.

He shook his head, trying to steel his nerves. Even with his heart and mind at war over what to do, Max knew that, deep down, he had a job to do. Say Michael actually _is_ the lost Tsarevich Milo, what did that mean for the new order? Chaos, doubt, and everything he believed in would come crumbling down around him.

He pressed his back against the wall and exhaled quietly. The revolution had come and with it gone, a new and better Russia was left in it's place. Times had changed, as they must, and the world Max knew had changed along with it. Love had no place in the middle of it all, and yet, here he was, hesitating, the pistol in his pocket feeling like a lead weight in his pocket.

Still, he remembered his orders from his commander, and the promises that the wizard Blockputin had made if he was able to kill Michael.

Max glanced again towards Michael. _Do I really have to kill him? Can't I just…_ An idea popped into Max's head. _I could save him_. Yes, Max could just take the street rat back to Russia, where he could live out the rest of his life, safe in the walls of Russia with the New Order as his leader.

The myth of Tsarevich Milo would die here in Paris, Max would make sure of it. But that didn't mean Michael had to die just so that could happen.

Swan Lake's final act began as four souls, whose paths were bound by fate, ruminated about how their lives would change after the curtains closed on the wonderful world of the ballet.

An orphaned boy with no memories of his old life, hoping beyond hope that he and his sister would find their family and their future. A con artist, setting his own heart's desire aside to see those he truly cares for earn their happy ending. A heartbroken Grand Duchess, who just wanted to forget her family's terrible tragedy and move on with her life, despite the near and very present reminders of who she lost. And a Bolshevik soldier, trying desperately to maintain the simple things of his new government, despite the possibility that it might all be built upon a lie he chooses to believe over the harsh truth of reality.

And yet, they all agreed, it all came down to the Tsarevich Milo Murphy and his cousin, Princess Melissa Chase all finding a way back to their homes, one way or another.

 **Hey, look at that, more of that Anastasia AU that I wrote that one story for months ago. Guess there was more. This is based off one of my favorite songs from the musical,** _ **Quartet at the Ballet**_ **. So, go check it out, if you want, I guess.**


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